


The Blue Burger

by JanitorBot



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Food Service, And Zero roasts X, Can you call this crack played straight?, Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, This is the gayest Zero I've ever written and that's a new personal achievement, X finds it funny tho, X roasts burgers, i have no idea at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanitorBot/pseuds/JanitorBot
Summary: It’s painted in a soothing blue and secondary red. It’s roundish for a truck and strikes off more as a motorhome in its lack of sharp edges. There’s a simple sign above its counter opening that declares itself “The Blue Burger” with a subtitle that adds it’s “Limitlessly Delicious!”It’s covered in pale, fritzing polka dots.A-Rank Hunter Zero continues to glare at this suspicious liar of a truck, trying to figure out what its damage is.In which X is a burger food truck owner and Zero was kinda doomed from the start.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sueanoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sueanoi/gifts).



> A commissioned fic for Sueanoi.  
> I'd list down what the request conditions were except I was literally given a detailed, two page outline. The essential parts basically boil down to a burgerflipper!X and X/Zero.  
> This story takes place in an alternate universe where Zero is 20% less uptight warbot, 20% more gay, and X runs a burger food truck instead of being a Hunter.  
> 

One of the most popular and commonly shared past time among the Maverick Hunters is gossip.

Therefore, the most frequented activity that Zero does besides fighting is eavesdropping.

To Zero, it’s low-key recon to plug in an aural cone into the combatdroid’s surroundings – the robot equivalent of humans putting a finger in the wind. Zero can map out various worst-case scenarios from the softest tells of disturbance among the people around him; no matter what happens or will happen, Zero _will_ be prepared to take action.

However, mostly the Hunters usually talk of unimportant and irrelevant information. Zero has no interest in “if Launch Octopus and Volt Kraken are close or _close_ ” or “I swear, Sigma’s going to retire _this_ time. I’ll bet a thousand zennies on it.”

But there has been a small piece of seemingly insignificant news that’s been circulating recently and it’s only gaining stronger momentum. The first time Zero hears it is in the elevator just leaving from the Hunter Base canteen. Two lower-ranked, in-field Hunters are making quiet conversation behind him, complaining about the aches of overtime and the most recent Vile-Went-Too-Liberal-With-His-Toys’ victim at Medbay until –

“Hey, is it me or were there less people at the canteen today?”

Zero dials up his hearing settings. He too had a similar observation and it’s critical that he understands the source of any major change in his environment.

“There was. Probably because of the new food truck.”

“Food truck? What’s that?”

“Bolts, how the smelt have you not seen a single one before? We’re only two streets south from Century Road and that place is teeming full of it!”

“Shut up, I don’t go outside. You going to tell me what a food truck is or not?”

“It’s this old human thing that they still do. People modify their vehicles into fuel stations, make their own fuel and sell it as they go around. It’s a really human thing since, y’know, we can get by with an e-tank and go our way. But apparently there are food trucks for _reploids_ over there now.”

“Huh, so it’s like the oil bars but portable.”

“Yeah, bolts right? You want to check it out tomorrow?”

“Do I gotta pay zenny for it?”

“Well yeah! It’s not the Hunters – no one’s going to give you free fuel!”

“Ehhhh I’ll grab a tank from the canteen tomorrow and you can show me. Might not get anything though. I’ve been saving up for another sink…”

“Again?! You already have ten! I’m sure even humans don’t need more than two sinks and they actually need them!”

“Shut up, they’re aesthetically pleasing!”

…And Zero loses his interest.

A week later, the warbot recalls that conversation again when he steps into a nearly deserted canteen within the last fifteen minutes of the midday refuel hour. The canteen has always been a bustling space that Zero is keen to avoid during its peak activity. Around the end of the hour, the elevators would be packed full of Hunters, maintenance and officer workers, and other Maverick Hunter staff members returning to their respective stations.

Which reminds Zero that earlier the elevator arrived for him at a timely manner, implying that there weren’t many people in the first place to cause elevator traffic.

Personally, Zero prefers it. The maximum number of potential hostiles within his immediate vicinity is decreasing. The downside is this strange sense of anticipation because of the fast change in population without confirming it with his own eyes.

So he hops off on the twenty-fifth floor and strides to a window facing north.

There it is. Across from the business and retail district, there’s a generously wide road stretched lazily around the curb of a wide green lot that’s liberally connected to the rest of Abel City Century Park filled with colors. Sticking close to the side to the grassy area is a line of trucks from one end of the road to the other end. When Zero refocuses his vision, he can recognize a number of reploids. Parts of their mechanical builds glaring sunlight among the tiny dots that are the populace, making them stand out.

Also, there’s no way not to recognize the few garish animaloids at first glance.

Having taste is not something Zero thinks he carries: he does have receptors that inform him if he’s consuming appropriate fuel, but he can’t relate to the whole spicy, salty, sweet or whatever intricate taste senses that humans have.

Zero is aware that there are plenty of reploids with electrochemical tongue installations that allows them to experience an array of taste senses similar to a human’s (though they use it in small doses since waste shedding is an experience every robot would like to avoid if possible). However, Zero is not one of them. He’s yet to find a reason to have that piece of technology installed either. Fuel is fuel.

But he can’t deny that he’s slightly curious. Because Hunters, despite being provided with free fuel on Base, are going out of their way to pay zenny for this. They are literally exchanging currency for this extraneous piece of luxury. Is there something more to these fuels outside of sensation and taste that Zero is not privy to?

He wants to know.

The next day, Zero forgoes the canteen for the first time and goes outside for noon refuel.

 

* * *

 

It takes some effort from Zero’s part to hide his bewilderment.

He timed it so that he would arrive after the peak of the lunch rush yet there’s still plenty of people lingering about. Since humans in general are less productive, they tend to dawdle at cafes, restaurants, and other food stations for the sake of dawdling. Seeing humans stick around after they’ve long stopped eating food is expected.

Seeing reploids joining them side by side being equally idle is not.

Basically, the result is that there’s more people here than Zero finds comfortable. Threat assessment is ringing off in multiple directions, assigning lows and moderates. At least back in Hunter Base he can easily mark it. Here, there are too many trucks, stalls, humans, civilian-based reploids, and other obstacles crowding around. Targeting is constantly distracted.

“Hey, you won’t be finding any bot food here.”

Humans are so low in the threat assessment scale that Zero doesn’t pay attention to them unless he’s required to. He swivels his head to the side to see a thickly braided human manning behind the counter of her respective food truck.

She flicks her head up at Zero’s attention and says,” You new here, ain’tcha? Yeah, this side of the street is mostly tacos, pizzas, tapas, rolls - you get the idea. If you want the energen, petrol, and crystals, you gotta walk further up.” She points with her thumb for further emphasis. “Guys like Beatra and Chow Rouser need a lot of space. You be finding what you need where they are.”

“Understood,” Zero answers and walks on.

It’s certainly an interesting scene. Every single food truck here, especially the reploid-based food trucks that he can see in the distance, is a mobile fire hazard. If one of these trucks make an oil spill, everything will go up in flames.

He can see how this makeshift market lot can benefit from a few ice and aquatic-based Hunters then.

It’s only as he gets closer towards the center when he starts registering a new threat. Categorized substantial.

Eyes sharpening, Zero stops in his tracks and scans again. Human civilians in office and casual attire: hiding nothing, not them. Hunters here – mostly humanoids and a few animaloids, all sitting at the grass lot. Usual. Nearby food trucks then. A centipede animaloid with multiple sets of hands replaces with sharp blades, a camel animaloid triggering warnings of dangerously high temperatures, a humanoid who’s –

Wait a second.

Zero’s legs are already taking the warbot closer to that particular food truck, the one that has his threat assessment ringing the loudest. His mechanical hackles are raised, right hand twitching, barely restrained from transforming into a buster as he comes face to face with –

The Crimson Hunter stops. He squints.

It’s painted in a soothing blue and secondary red. It’s roundish for a truck and strikes off more as a motorhome in its lack of sharp edges. There’s a simple sign above its counter opening that declares itself “The Blue Burger” with a subtitle that adds it’s “Limitlessly Delicious!”

It’s covered in pale, fritzing polka dots.

A-Rank Hunter Zero continues to glare at this suspicious liar of a truck, trying to figure out what its damage is.

“How may I help you, sir?”

The humanoid (threat categorized moderate, the same as every stranger reploid). If Zero didn’t know any better, he would have thought the reploid was a weird human. Their plating must be either very thin or they’re not wearing it at all because the white apron layered over the white lab coat they’re wearing drape over their form like normal clothing. They’re not equipped with a helm to protect their processor either. There’s only a dainty hat with the truck’s name printed across on top of earthy brown synthetic hair.

Zero glances at this vulnerable disaster of a reploid, peers to the side of them to peek into the insides of their truck. There’s a possibility that this reploid is cooking up something low-key lethal in there because there’s no way this robot can pose a threat.  

Finally, the Hunter demands, “What’s in there?” in all utter seriousness.

He must identify the weapon.

The chef reploid points to their menu hanging on the side of their counter, which is written on clean, printed text. Framed in warm wood.

“This is all I have,” they say. “Burgers. I’ve got one for humans and reploids.”

Zero goes quiet, simply narrowing his eyes further.

“A burger is not a weapon,” Zero states though his voice lilts slightly at the end in his uncertainty.

He doesn’t know what a burger is, less alone what food is. He’s aware that there are incidents of people being victims to food. Is threat assessment registering this ‘burger’ as a threat?  

“No, it is not,” the reploid agrees genially. If Zero baffled them, they don’t show it. “Actually, I have an idea. Give me a moment.”

The chef reploid starts walking around in their workplace, entering in and out of Zero’s view frame that is the truck window. They flit from one machine to the next, devices that the warbot has never seen before (asides from the obvious grill and refrigerator in a corner), humming as they take out beakers of foreign chemicals from one storage unit, energen crystals from another, tossing them gingerly into a pot-like device. As the device rumbles diligently, the reploid dips below, shuffling to take something out, and procures two strange, puffed up blue discs that shimmer under light.

Half a minute later, they turn off the pot, which Zero realizes is a high powered smelting oven, and pours the mixture on a flat grill. They flip it a couple times until it takes a flatter shape before carefully placing it on one disc. It wobbles slightly in a movement reminiscent of mercury. They top it off with the second disc.

This unique process was so fascinating to watch that it takes a chirpy, “Here you go, one burger,” from the reploid chef to recapture Zero’s attention. The burger flipper gingerly hands the concoction over on a plastic container with a hand supporting the weight from the bottom.

Zero’s brows furrow under his helmet. “I didn’t order anything.”

“Don’t worry, this one’s on the house. See it as a welcoming gift for your first time here.” At the warbot’s questioning gaze, they elaborate. ”You’re a very impressive looking Hunter. If you were around here before, I’d remember you. Go ahead, take a bite.”

The warbot cautiously accepts it and tilts his head. There’s nothing about this item that’s setting off warnings, which means the danger is something inside the truck. Zero bores daggers into the blue paint job as he takes a tentative bite.

The moment his teeth splits the discs, he pauses. He glances down at the food in his hand in a new light.

 _Copper, ceratanium, magnesium, zinc, sueanis, cobalt, manganese, prarbite, and energen,_ Zero’s detection receptors kindly inform him. He separates from his dish and the mercury-like filling splits like a blob cleanly. Zero can’t quite taste the food as much as feel the soft grainy texture of the discs and the warm softness of the metal concoction. Still, there’s something satisfying about the tingling charge of the fuel sliding down his internal canals and the fulfilling knowledge that his nanites will have more than plenty to work with in case of a violent Maverick attack.

This might be the closest thing Zero will have as “delicious.”

Swallowing slowly, Zero asks, “This is a burger?”

“Kind of,” the reploid says sheepishly. “Burgers are human food and they don’t process their fillings together like that.” They reach for the plastic containers lined out next to the counter and open a couple, revealing sliced vegetables, cheese, and other ingredients to demonstrate. “I’m not sure what it is to be honest, but it’s shaped like a burger so…” They shrug. “I call it just that. A reploid burger.”

The reploid lays an elbow on the counter, resting their cheek on one hand comfortably “What you got there is the Sufici. I threw in just enough some fillings for it to have the fundamental minerals. Charged with enough concentrated energy so even though it’s small it’s filling.” They gesture at the beam saber hilt on Zero’s back. “Most of my Hunter customers order it. I thought that since it’s your first time having a burger, it’s good to start you off with that one.”

Zero continues consuming the rest of his meal, contemplative. His attention darts to the menu again and his eyes widen incrementally.

“It’s 800 zennies for this?”

Wincing, the chef rubs the back of their head. “Well, it’s...”

“That’s cheap,” remarks Zero. “For the materials you’ve used, you should be selling it way higher than that. The quality is high.”

“Oh.” The reploid reddens. “Then you like it? It’s not too tangy or rich?”

Popping in the rest of the decimated burger with a final bite, Zero nods. “It’s satisfactory.”

“I’m glad,” the reploid replies gently. “There’s plenty of delicious foods here for you to experience: the very organic and the not-so organic ones. So I hope you come here often, uh…”

“Zero,” the Hunter introduces himself.

“Nice to meet you, Zero. I’m Ecksu. He/him pronouns.” Viridian eyes soft, Ecksu smiles. “I hope I get to see you again soon, Zero.”

Zero’s processor statics.

There’s nothing more to this. Ecksu is a business owner and Zero is the business. It’s just practice.

Wordlessly, warbot throws his container in a provided trash bin next to food truck.

He needs to go back to Base.  

 

* * *

 

Zero comes again the next day around the same time. It’s mostly because it’s a Sunday that the usual number of working humans aren’t there and thus there’s less people than usual.

He deliberately didn’t refuel last night and this morning to sample more foods. Ever since trying a reploid burger yesterday, he can’t help but be intrigued that there is something interesting about consuming different forms of sustenance.

But threat assessment rings again as Zero tries to pass The Blue Burger for another food truck. It refuses to stop nagging him and the warbot huffs an annoyed exvent through his nose before turning heel, obeying.

Maybe once he figures out what’s gotten combat mode so agitated, Zero will be left in peace.

It’s difficult to stay sullen when The Blue Burger’s owner spots the warbot, a smile splitting his face in half. It’s an expressive reaction that Zero isn’t used to seeing back in Hunter Base.

“Hi Zero!” Ecksu greets cheerfully. “Here for another burger?”

_I’m here to figure out what’s wrong with your truck._

Threat assessment is sullen that it still can’t identify what is it about The Blue Burger that has it on guard.

Well, might as well order something.

Zero looks at the menu. “Under reploids, there’s only two burgers: the Sufici and the Tudo,” he observes. “Compare to the human menu, it’s very limited.”

“Humans are more sensitive to biochemical reactions than reploids are,” explains Ecksu. “There are humans who don’t like meat, humans who like only meat, humans who can’t digest gluten – I try to accommodate for as many as I can. Even reploids who don’t run combustion tanks won’t suffer a major malfunction if they accidentally ingest trace amounts of petroleum.”

Zero crosses his arms. “That sounds like a hassle. Why don’t you cater to purely reploids? Or do you generate more business with human customers?”

Ecksu smiles patiently. “I just like serving as many people as I can. Trying to reap maximum profit with minimal fuss isn’t my goal.”   

Confused, the warbot frowns. “That defeats the entire purpose of a business.”

“It is,” the food truck owner agrees. “If I really cared about making money, I would be doing something else. But it’s not my directive.”

“I don’t understand. What else can be your directive than making a profit when you’re running a business?”

“Seeing humans and reploids getting together makes me happy,” Ecksu says wistfully like clouds. “It’s why I run a food truck that serves to both races. I have human and reploid customers come to my little truck and sometimes they talk to each other while they wait for their orders.”

He points to the grassy lot behind Zero. “And every day I have a great view of the park and see everyone enjoy themselves. Watching humans and reploids share the same social space in peace…that’s my real payment.”

After that weighted line, the air around The Blue Burger becomes solemn. Zero feels less like he’s outside in a food truck market lot and more like he stepped into some human church.

“You are a very strange reploid,” Zero judges. “I’d label you crazy or sanctimonious except you actually seem genuine. Fritz, you flip _burgers_ as an occupation.”

Ecksu makes a noise like his vocals are being crushed and clamps a hand over his mouth to hold it back. He’s not successful. Bits of laughter and oscillating static peek out between his fingers. Green eyes curve upward in open amusement.

Zero watches this display with no small amount of fascination. The Hunter isn’t so used to seeing such easygoing expressiveness around him even among civilians.

He dials up his observation settings.

“It’s honestly not that strange,” Ecksu forces out in a breathy exvent as his chuckles die down. “Well, perhaps it is to reploids more so than to humans. I forget sometimes since I’m so old.”

Zero frowns. “Old? When were you activated?”

“That’s a great question. I don’t know, but it’s longer than most bots,” the chef reploid replies cheekily. “So did you figure out what you’d like to eat?”

That’s right. Zero’s here for refuel.

“…I’ll try the Tudo,” the warbot says feeling like a dislodged cog as he swipes his card into the payment terminal.

“One Tudo coming right up.”

It doesn’t take more than a minute.

“That was quick,” Zero notes when he takes the burger. It’s a shade darker and larger than the Sufici he had last time.

“This is my usual speed - at least when it comes to serving reploid burgers. I do a lot of prep ahead of time in bulk without worrying about the quality degrading over time. Yesterday you came when I was running out.”

“You’re popular,” Zero concludes.

“Hmm, I think I just get busy around rush hour like every other owner here.”

The warbot takes a bite. And stops mid-chew.

Ecksu’s amiable expression drops for worry. “Is there something wrong?”

The warbot swallows with a little struggle. “It’s filling.” Looks like he’ll have to discard his plans of trying other fuels.

Ecksu winces. “It is quite heavy. I should have warned you ahead of time.”

“I should have expected it. It did say on your menu that this one has ‘everything.’” Zero twists the burger side to side, scrutinizing it.

“Still, most reploids can’t finish off the Tudo in one round. Heavy-duty and custom builds tend to order it. I recommend eating as much as you need to and save the rest for later.”

“I’ll be fine.”

As Zero progresses through consuming the whole smelting thing, Ecksu’s eyes bulge larger and larger.

“You don’t need to force yourself. I can package it for you,” the burger flipper says weakly.

Another bite. “I don’t like wasting resources, less alone high quality fuel.” Another bite.

“Even so, it’s not good to bloat.”

Two more bites. “I won’t bloat. I was running on low.”

Then Zero’s done.

“You literally ate everything,” Ecksu says disbelievingly at the sight of Zero’s clean plate. “Are you hiding multiple tanks in there? Your build looks so compact. How are your systems _not_ bursting right now?”

Zero shrugs. It’s not like he entirely knows how his own systems work either.

 

* * *

 

The Blue Burger isn’t here today.

For once, his legs don’t force him to beeline towards the food truck and the warbot can sample the other options in semi-peace. Combat mode is on alert as always but it’s not annoying.

Except the warbot isn’t interested in human-centric food, leaving him with the few available reploid food trucks, all of which are very niche.

The Graw Grill stuffs heavy swathes of petroleum on every dish it serves, mainly attracting construction bots and reploids that run on combustion tanks. Every five minutes there are janitorial mechs circling around the truck to gobble up any spilled oil and tripping the occasional customer who’s not paying attention. Zero tries their skewers. It slid down his throat like sludge.

Another food truck is considerably popular because its owner cooks as if they’re presenting a show. Zero isn’t sure what they’re making in there, but whatever it is isn’t worth the effort to go through that barrier of bodies. He can’t even see the menu.

Coil and Chill serves cooling fluids, thermal pastes, and nitrogen snacks. Zero does purchase one out of curiosity only to find it uncomfortably cold and overhyped when he can’t quite relate to the “Oh bolts, it’s so sweet!” euphoria that the reploids around him squeal.

A few minutes later, Zero spots a familiar Hunter in front of a truck loudly proclaiming as Ase Ase and strides up to him.

“Blast Hornet,” the warbot starts. 

The animaloid jolts at being suddenly called. He turns to the red warbot, mask hanging open to the side with flecks of something bright orange clinging around his mouth.

“Zero,” Blast Hornet says curtly, appearing vaguely chagrined. Zero can understand; face vulnerable, see-through abdomen empty of its trademark bombs, and right-hand gun swapped for a normal hand, Hornet is underdressed.

“What are you eating?” the warbot asks.

The animaloid wipes his mouth self-consciously. “Ase Ase. Soup of the day.”

“Is it good?”

“To me. Not for many people.”

“You wouldn’t recommend it then?”

“Very spicy and sour. Acidic. Risk injury if throat is lower than Moh 4.75.”  Blast’s antennas wiggle. “I like junk food.”

Zero quickly looks up what ‘junk’ food is and twists his face in disgust.

“You judge me,” asks Blast.

“Yes.”

Blast Hornet makes a sad clicking sound.

“You refuel at the market lot often?” Zero continues.

“Many times.”

“What would you recommend?”

“What do you like? Spicy? Salty? Sweet?”

Zero opens his mouth to respond then closes it. It dawns to Zero then that not having elaborate taste sensors renders the supposed joy of consuming different food mute.

_Then why did I come back here for?_

“Never mind,” the red Hunter mumbles.

Vexed, Zero twists heel, ignoring the confused animaloid. He’s going to return to Base and have a normal e-tank. It gets the job done and it’s free. This venture has been a waste of time.

Then threat assessment sings again.

Of course it’s The Blue Burger. In the time Zero went off exploring, the food truck arrived.

Standing in front of his own truck, Ecksu is engrossed in set-up, opening up the windows and tugging down the retractable counter bar. It takes a moment for the chef reploid to notice Zero’s presence. “Oh, hi Zero!”

“You’re late,” Zero starts bluntly.

Ecksu snorts. “I tried to come on time but there was a car crash on my way here. So how was your day? Did you happen to try some of the other foods here?”

“I did.”

“How were they?”

“Inefficient.”

The civiloid was hanging his menu sign on a nail the side of his counter until Zero answered. Now he’s grinning teasingly at the warbot. “Inefficient? Oh I see. You’re a health nut.”

“A health nut,” Zero repeats slowly.

“Yup. You prioritize efficiency. You don’t find any fuel to be worth eating unless it’s packed with nutrients. Function over taste and sensation.”

“Function is the most important. The whole point of fuel is to continue operating. Intaking low quality fuel that doesn’t maximize operating systems is counterproductive.”

“Hmm, I guess so.”

Ecksu doesn’t sound convinced. It makes Zero feel like he’s missing something.

“You said that your directive was watching humans and reploids coming together. It’s a lofty goal but you’re a food service reploid.”

“As you mentioned before,” Ecksu says entering the back of his truck. He pops up again standing behind the counter.

“There are thousands of other occupations that can allow you to actively achieve that directive. Clearly you chose to run a food truck business out of your own volition. You’re not contracted to it. So why this?”

“Why not?”

The not-answer displeases the warbot.

“I’m serious,” Ecksu continues as if sensing Zero’s demeanor. “Because you’re correct. There are many other ways for me to pursue my goals. But here’s a question I have for you: if you care purely for function and maximizing that function, you could have continued refueling off of e-tanks. So why did you come to the market?”

Taken aback that Ecksu has voiced out the same question that Zero asked himself earlier, the Hunter stays silent.

“Whatever the answer is, I hope it’s more than enough to keep bringing you here,” Ecksu says easily. “I like talking to you.”

“You’re the first and most likely the _only_ reploid to ever say that,” Zero says, wary again.

“It’s true though.” Green eyes dancing with mirth, Ecksu dips his head forward like he’s going to pass on a secret. It makes Zero want to lean closer too, to hear it. “How about you? Do you like talking to me too, Zero?”

Suddenly Zero’s alarm system notifies him that he doesn’t have much time left before his break ends and he hasn’t refueled adequately. Time is ticking. He is saved from properly answering Ecksu.

“I need to go on patrol soon.” He takes out his card. “One Sufici to-go.”

Thrown off at the non-sequitur, the burger flipper snaps into professionalism. “Oh. Okay.”

As Ecksu prepares and packages Zero’s order, he says offhandedly,” You know, I didn’t tell you what my other directive is.”

It’s a statement that’s deliberately baiting. Considering it’s from a civiloid, Zero goes along with it. “And what would that be?”

“I want to come across all kinds of people and have conversations with them.” Ecksu is passing a rusting to-go meal and yet the warm way he looks at Zero has the warbot feeling like he’s given something much more. “I rarely do so since most people are busy so they come to get their fuel and move on. But you took the time to talk to me and it was a lot of fun. Thanks for fulfilling my directive, Zero.”

Fun. Ecksu finds talking to Zero fun. Zero’s name and the word fun in the same sentence is so out there that his processor can’t connect wires over it.  

Zero takes back what his previous labeling of Ecksu and corrects it. Ecksu isn’t a strange reploid.

He is _the_ strangest reploid. Ever.

The thoughts continue to follow Zero as he walks back to Base as he eats his meal, which feels more of a mandatory chore than a…

Than what?   

_“Do you like talking to me too, Zero?”_

_I do,_ Zero realizes with a jolt. Despite not discussing about combat-related matters (which is his critical interest), the warbot hasn’t once ignored anything the civiloid said. Ecksu is mesmerizing in his uniqueness, from his casual attitude towards the Hunter and refreshing openness in engaging with him. He stands apart from everyone Zero has met so far.

Ecksu is…fun.

Suddenly Zero is gripped with the powerful need to have more of this weird, burger flipping reploid.  

 

* * *

 

Although it’s against Zero’s usual practice of refueling near the end of the lunch hour, Zero chooses to come to the market lot early.

And he’s irked what he sees.

The Blue Burger already has customers lining up.

The warbot is compelled to slice them down just for being obstacles that are delaying him from executing his current directive. The consequences aren’t worth it so he stomps it down.  

He joins the line.  

“Hello Zero, what will it be?” Ecksu asks when it’s finally the warbot’s turn twenty minutes later. He appears more harried than usual. “A Sufici?”

“Can you do it with half the amount of energen and no cobalt?” Zero requests, recalling that Ecksu’s tendency to accommodate. “I’ll pay extra.”

“You don’t need to pay extra, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer since it’s a unique order,” the brunette answers without a beat. “Would that be fine?”

“Yes.” In fact, it’s perfect. Ecksu can spend a longer time on Zero’s order than anyone else’s.

“Even during the lunch rush, you’re all by yourself?” the Hunter asks as he watches the other reploid dash side to side fetching the appropriate ingredients. “This seems to be too much work for one person.”

“It can be sometimes, but I’m not eager to hire help,” Ecksu says when he turns back around tossing chemicals into his smelting pot.

Ecksu’s attention switches from Zero to a human woman next to the warbot. “Hello! What would you like? And Zero, I’m sorry but can you please move to the side? There are others waiting to give their order.”

Zero turns behind him and coolly glance at the people behind him as if they personally offended him. The reploid immediately beside him gulps.

If only this reploid was a Hunter then the A-Rank Hunter could order them to find another food truck to harass.

 _Don’t be stupid. You’re impeding Ecksu’s directive,_ the warbot chides himself. The chef reploid can’t solely focus his attention on Zero while he can address his other customer’s needs. In this situation, multi-tasking is an imperative and it’s only fair Ecksu commits it.

Zero steps to the side of the truck begrudgingly. Five minutes later Ecksu wordlessly hands him his half-sized burger, which Zero munches slowly.

The combatdroid is so focused trying to squash the unreasonable feeling of injustice that it takes Ecksu calling out his name a couple times for the warbot to realize he was being called at all.

“Zero, is everything alright?” the burger flipper asks later, eyes filled with visible concern.

“Yes. The burger is fine.”

“I don’t mean the food. I mean you,” Ecksu clarifies. “You seemed to be angry.”

Rust, Zero didn’t intend for that to be obvious. “I was?” he asks with affected blankness.

“You were. I think you scared a couple of my customers away.” Ecksu purses his lips at that. “I was wondering if something happened.”

Zero, feeling caught, gives an excuse that’s only partially true. “I don’t like wasting time on waiting. But it’s clear that your truck is popular and so it’s an inevitability that I will have to wait until it’s my turn. And even then, it’ll be around the end of the hour and I would have to rush and immediately return to Base.”

In the back of his processor, Zero is chewing on this piece of knowledge.

 _Intimidation. I can utilize that._ A more effective alternative than killing the customers and the Red Ripper won’t be declared Maverick again.

But then Ecksu may view Zero poorly for being the terrifying addition to his truck and may no longer desire to converse with the warbot.  Off-putting. Route discarded.  

“If you don’t like waiting, how about trying Juggling Jinae’s?” Ecksu offers. “She’s very fast so she goes through entire customer lines in a sec – “

“I won’t have food from anyone else but you,” Zero interrupts sharply.

Ecksu clamps his mouth shut in surprise.

“It’s good,” Zero continues insistently, trying not to sound defensive when the other reploid keeps staring at him. “The materials are high quality for the given price and the service is admirable.”

A little quietly off to the side, he adds, “I find talking to you to be interesting as well. Your presence is absent from other establishments. Therefore, The Blue Burger is my only option.”

“O-oh, I see,” Ecksu murmurs as he looks down at this impeccably clean apron. It doesn’t have a single wrinkle but he keeps patting it down anyway, cheeks tinted red. “I’m really flattered. But I can’t say that I’m happy that you need to wait so long. Lunchtime should be spent without feeling rushed…”

“What if I give you my order ahead of time?”

Green eyes snap up to Zero’s, bright with curiosity.

“I am a repeat customer,” the warbot declares matter-of-factly. “And I _will_ continue to be a repeat customer. If I give you my communication sequence, I can tell you what I’ll order ahead of time. Would that be ideal?”

“Sure,” Ecksu responds, wide-eyed. “My number is 19-931-217.”

“20-020-426.”

 _“Testing,”_ Ecksu says in their channel. _“Can you hear me?”_

 _“I can hear you,”_ replies Zero, core warm and thrumming. There’s something about hearing the gentle reploid’s voice in his processor like this that has his vents running a little faster.

 

* * *

 

There is an upside and downside to Ecksu’s food. It’s so compact with necessary nutrients that Zero doesn’t require to refuel on anything else. Which consequently is a downside because Zero is neither the gluttonous nor the wasteful type. He doesn’t have an appetite to consume more than he needs to, and who the smelt would consume more fuel on full subtanks? Someone glitching, that’s who.

But Zero wants to contact Ecksu as much as possible. There are very few activities outside of fighting Mavericks that the Hunter likes, and now that he finds engaging with Ecksu to be stimulating, he’s seeking ways to get more of it as much as he can.

Solution: keep making customized orders to have smaller, more frequent meals and ask questions under the guise of an eager client.

 _“Ecksu, I’ll be arriving to your location in ETA five minutes,”_ Zero says in their private comm channel. _“I’d like to place a custom order.”_

_“Hello Zero! And what would this custom order be?”_

_“A Tudo without the buns and fifteen extra milligrams of zinc.”_

_“Alright. It should be done by the time you arrive.”_

_“Also, can you tell me what your routine is?”_

A pause. _“My routine?”_

_“Yes. I frequently order from you during the noon, but I want to know if you also serve morning and night. Sometimes I see your truck around Century Park in the morning but not at the same location.”_

_“My schedule is constantly fluctuating. The only consistency is that I come back to Century Road before the lunch rush every day. Thus the life of a food truck owner.”_

_“Have you ever considered settling in one permanent location?”_

_“Sometimes. Having a permanent location would be stable, but I have more flexibility as I am now.”_ Ecksu’s voice takes a mischievous turn. _“Why do you ask? You want to come see me that much?”_

“Yes,” Zero continues off radio when he strides in front of The Blue Burger’s counter. “I do.”

Recently Zero finds that the more honest he is with Ecksu, the more the chef reploid’s face turns bright crimson.

And the Hunter likes how red looks on the civilian reploid.

“That’ll be 900 zennies,” Ecksu says quietly as he pushes forward Zero’s burger and the payment terminal for Zero to swipe his card.

To Zero’s disappointment, he needs to rush off soon (and how novel it is, that the warbot looks more forward to seeing this particular individual than the potential to commit violence) so he swiftly inputs his payment onto the small black machine.

Burger in hand, he makes a motion to immediately return to work, when he hears Ecksu cry out, “Zero, you made a mistake!”

Zero stops and looks over his shoulder.

“The burger is only 900 zennies – you paid way more than that!” the civiloid explains. 

“It’s not a mistake,” Zero replies simply.

He turns away just in time to hide a small smile when he hears Ecksu spluttering behind him.

 

* * *

 

_“Ecksu, I’m going to have to cancel my order.”_

_“Huh? Why?”_

_“I won’t see you during lunchtime,”_ Zero says with a tinge of regret as he watches the ambulance vans trickling into the scene one by one. _”In fact, there won’t be many Hunters coming today either. Expect a slow day.”_

_“I’ve been hearing sirens coming from the Maverick Hunters all day. What happened? Is it really bad?”_

_“Rogue mechaniloid rusted up a building. We took down the mech, but there’s a lot of collateral. A good number of our Units are here.”_

_“Oh no. I’m checking the news right now. The pictures are horrific…”_

_“We’re going to be out here all day. Will you be near HQ tonight? If I can’t have lunch, maybe I can have dinner instead.”_

_“I have a better idea. I’ll be right back.”_ And Ecksu leaves the channel.

One hour into the assessment and surface search phase and ordering relatives and friends to “stay behind the yellow tape, if you’re in the way then you’ll impede us,” Zero’s threat assessment starts turning up sirens of its own like raising a volume.

He snaps towards the direction of the perceived threat, beam saber in hand – and lowers it in astonishment when he spots a familiar blue truck parking some paces away. He tells threat assessment to shut up as he marches towards the truck.

“Ecksu, what are you doing here?” the Hunter demands coolly as its owner climbs down from the driver’s seat. “This isn’t a place for a civilian to loiter in. Go back to the market.”

“I will,” the reploid replies calmly as he unceremoniously stuffs a bag into Zero’s hands. “That’s a Tudo.” He starts opening up shop.

“I didn’t order this,” Zero deadpans.

“You didn’t,” Ecksu agrees as he ties the ribbons of his white apron over his unchanging lab coat. “But you’re going to need it. The news said that so far eighty-six victims are unaccounted for. The Hunters will be _busy.”_

“This is an oil spill, Ecksu. There’s going to be dead bodies, humans and reploids, and you’re not prepared to see that.”

Ecksu closes his eyes and takes a deep exvent. When they open up again, they meet Zero’s and the warbot stiffens at the hard edge of determination he sees in those normally gentle forest greens.

“We’re both wasting time. I’m going to provide extra fuel for anyone who needs it,” the chef reploid intones sternly. “I also have extra e-tanks, hydraulic fluids, and minerals that boost self-repair performance for the injured reploids just in case the medics run low on stock. I’ll just be outside of the damage perimeters. Don’t stop me.”

“Hunters, proceed to void search!” Zero hears Sigma order.

Ecksu gives a pointed look. “Just eat the energen, Zero.”

The Hunter huffs through his nose. “Understood. If I find a reploid on low, I’ll tell you.”

And that’s that.

The work is urgent and arduous. The Hunters are extracting and tugging away crumbled debris to the side, fishing out damaged victims under the layers and layers of collapsed support structures and giant cables. Compare to the increasingly stressed and wearied reploids around him, Zero isn’t as easily affected. This is one of the many duties to being a Hunter.

In short, the search-and-rescue effort doesn’t bother Zero. Instead, what bothers him is Ecksu, who’s diligently running around with a cart full of fuel, breaching into the Hunter’s more dangerous side of his life, freely passing food to any Hunter who’s starting to wobble. Bolts, someone could be exventing a beat off and Ecksu would rush to them with an e-tank if the medics are too occupied with other tasks.

Every now and then a Hunter would recognize Ecksu.

“You’re the burger guy,” Zero hears one reploid say. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

“Doing what I always do. Here, take this. You look like you’re going to short-circuit.”

“Uh, I can’t pay for this right now.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just take the fuel and keep doing your best, sir.”

Half the time the Hunters would accept the fuel with momentary confusion before being distracted by another pressing task that requires their attention.

The other half the time the Hunters would stare at Ecksu, graciously accepting the much appreciated act of generosity in awe, and their rusting gaze would linger on his leaving form with undisguised interest.

 _I saw him first,_ Zero wants to growl.

“Stop gawking like a drone and refuel asap. There’s still work to do,” the A-Rank Hunter says aloud instead with eyes so cold they can make the artic winds praise out approvals. He viciously stomps down his petty possessiveness when the other Hunters squeak out “yes sirs!” and moves on before he does something really stupid.  

Seven grueling hours later, the eighty-sixth victim is found.

Zero finds Ecksu sitting on the driver’s seat of his truck with the door swung wide open, brown hair mussed and clothes rumpled. His green eyes are glassy as he takes long, slow sips out of a small e-tank.

“Are you okay?” Zero asks.

Ecksu drags his gaze to meet the Hunter’s and smiles tiredly. “I am. Thanks for asking.”

“You didn’t need to do any of this,” the combatdroid says, showing his disapproval. “The Maverick Hunters have their own mobile caterers to serve our first-responders in situations like these.”

The chef shrugs with one shoulder. “Sure I didn’t need to. But I wanted to.”

Zero glares. “Ecksu, this isn’t your job. You gave away the majority of your resources without compensation. How can you continue your business like this?”

“He’s right,” enters a third voice. “What you did was very kind and compassionate. I thank you on behalf of my Hunters.”

“Commander,” Zero acknowledges when he sees the tall green reploid approach in his peripheral vision.

“Zero, good job out there,” Sigma responds. He shifts his attention to Ecksu, who Zero notices has angled his body away from both Maverick Hunters as if he’s trying to hide away. “Bullet Bat in particular is immensely grateful. She says that your burgers are delicious.”

“I’m glad that she liked them,” Ecksu mumbles shyly, face half hidden behind his e-tank.

“I would like to compensate you,” Sigma continues.

“There’s no need. The Hunters are always risking their lives to be the sword and shield for those who can’t protect themselves. What I did is a small thing compare to what you all do.”

Sigma’s lips quirk upon hearing the familiar motto. “I insist. Good will should be rewarded.”

“Serving what I can is my reward,” counters Ecksu though the effect is dampened in his abrupt shyness. Perhaps he finds the taller reploid to be intimidating? “But if you really want to compensate me then I have one request.”

“If it’s within my power, I’ll do it. Ask away.”

“Can I borrow Zero for an hour, sir? He’s a friend and I’d like to spend some time with him. That is, if he’s fine with it.”  

Sigma raises a brow at Zero just as Zero raises a brow at Ecksu, who at this point isn’t even facing them at all.

“Zero, are you fine with this?” Sigma’s voice cuts through the warbot’s thoughts.

“Yes sir,” the warbot answers too swiftly to be wholly professional.

A friend. Ecksu sees Zero as his friend. Zero’s too focused marveling that’s he’s been promoted from customer to friend that he can’t bother to feel annoyed that he’s being used as a bargain pawn.

“Then I accept this request,” Sigma concedes. “You may borrow Zero.”

 _“If you can figure out how much money Ecks spent, report back to me and we’ll send him an anonymous check,”_ Sigma adds privately to Zero through radio.

“ _Understood. And sir, his name is pronounced Eck-su, not Ecks,”_ Zero corrects.

 _“I see.”_ Sigma appears amused instead of chagrined by his minor error.

The Commander defaults back to his typical stoicism again. “Now if you excuse me, I shall be returning to my work. Have a safe ride.”

 It’s only when Sigma leaves that Ecksu appears more relaxed. 

“I’m sorry for suddenly making you my request,” the chef reploid says ruefully. “I hope I didn’t make you feel awkward putting you in the spot like that.”

“I didn’t.” Zero pauses. “You call me your friend.”

Ecksu grins, abashed. “I did. Is it okay I can call you my friend?”

“If I can call you mine too.”

_Mine._

The chef reploid laughs and it brightens up his entire form. “Great! Now get inside. I’ll drive you back to your Base. If we leave now, the traffic won’t be so bad.”

Once Zero enters the passenger seat, Ecksu starts up the engine and drives them both away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of this fic completed.  
> Btw, IF YOU’RE THE TWO PEOPLE WHO CLICKED ON THIS FIC SECONDS AFTER IT CAME OUT, PLEASE GO BACK IF YOU MISSED THE ENTIRE PART WITH SIGMA. WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SO FAST?!?!

Though Ecksu hoped to avoid the evening rush hour, The Blue Burger finds itself stuck in a congested river of flashing red tail lights and blinkers. It is one of the thousand hunks of metal crawling at the speed of tar sliding on a five-degree slope.

“I just checked the maps. There’s a car crash at Marison and 18th. It seems we’re going to be here for a while,” Ecksu says apologetically. “If I knew ahead of time it would be this bad, I wouldn’t have put you through this with me too.”

“It’s fine,” replies Zero and means it.

If Zero was in the Hunter transit, he’d be silently begging for any cosmic entity that he doesn’t believe in for a major Maverick attack. It’s only during such extreme cases that the Hunters are allowed to turn on the sirens and cheat through the traffic.

Now, Zero actually wants another car collision in order to further extend this companionable moment that’s hanging comfortably between him and Ecksu.

Well. It would be comfortable if combat mode doesn’t stop sniping at him to turn around and slide open the door that separates the seats and the kitchen. It still hasn’t given up yet and is eager to know what’s in there now that Zero’s closer.  

“Are you keeping any hazardous machines back there?” Zero quips, gesturing towards the back.

Ecksu raises a brow. “Nothing any more hazardous than the next food truck. Honestly, I think mine is safer than most.” His voice lowers down conspiratorially. “The Graw Grill does carry a _lot_ of petroleum.”

Zero gives one final glare at the back of the truck before returning to fully into his seat.

“Is this because of the building collapse?” Ecksu asks quietly.

At the Hunter’s inquisitive look, the chef reploid half-shrugs, forcibly casual. Zero notices that the other reploid’s fingers are drumming anxiously against the wheel. “After something bad happens, I get a little paranoid too. How…how is it like being a Hunter?”

“It’s just work,” Zero says. “I receive a mission and I execute it. There’s nothing more to it.”

“But as a Maverick Hunter you get exposed to horror and tragedy and danger and…”

Ecksu sighs. “Doesn’t it get disheartening? I feel like if I have to fight so much I wouldn’t handle it.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re not designed for fighting. If you come across a Maverick, you’d be terminated.”

Ecksu’s fingers still. “But what if I was?”

“Was what?”

“Someone built for fighting. What would you think of me then?”

The question perplexes Zero. He doesn’t see the point of this particular brand of theoretical speak but since it’s Ecksu asking…

“If you were a combatant then I’d view you to be the worst combat-based model I’ve ever seen,” Zero declares. He wrinkles his nose. “You don’t wear a helmet and that’s basic safety for all bots. You make a bad reploid less alone a combatdroid.” 

Now that Zero is processing this deeply this is actually a cause for concern.

Ecksu erupts out a punched-out laugh. “A bad reploid? Bolts Zero, what did I do to you?”

“You became my friend,” Zero answers suddenly deadly serious. The chef reploid clearly framed the question to be teasing but Zero isn’t having it. Since the subject is brought into this direction the warbot must seize it. “Since we’ve established that we belong to each other – “

“Belong to each other?” Ecksu repeats, voice oddly high. 

“ – it disturbs me that you’re so exposed,” Zero continues unperturbed. “At your current state you’re as vulnerable as a human. Weren’t you manufactured with your external plating like everyone else? Where did it all go?”

“Whoa, where is all of this coming from?“ the unarmored robot fumbles out. “And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I admit, the lab coat and apron combination might be strange but they’re just clothes.”

“That’s the problem,” asserts Zero heatedly. “Clothing isn’t viable protection. You need something more substantial to boost your overall security. I’m a Maverick Hunter, Ecksu. I can’t always be by your side.”

“But you don’t have to be?” Ecksu strangles out, barely following the red warbot.

The warbot sends a withering glare at the burger flipper.

“Ecksu, do you like fighting?”

“What? No!” cries the burger flipper, appalled.

“So you will avoid it at all cost?”

“Of course!”

“See? You’re far from being a combat model,” Zero finishes. “You lack the drive. Even a civilian becomes dangerous if they wield a saber with intent. If it’s in the hand of a pacifist, it means nothing.”

Ecksu blinks, mouth parting into a small o.

“That…” The chef reploid smiles. “That makes sense. Thank you, Zero.”

The warbot crosses his arms across his chest. “I’m not letting you off the grid though. You need plating.”

“I _like_ wearing clothes over plating,” Ecksu says, lips twitching.

“I’m not asking you to have a buster.” It’s illegal for non-Maverick Hunters to have one anyway. “Just improve your defenses. You’re too kind and sensitive to fight but that’s fine. I can be the one fighting to protect you.”

The number of expressions that Ecksu shuffles through is captivating.

His brows rise and scrunch down. His mouth parts and closes. It’s as if the chef reploid’s emotional node is in haywire and his face is trying and failing to process.

“I…” Ecksu starts hesitantly after a lengthy amount of time later. Gaze strictly forwards at the road before him, he gnaws his bottom lip with his upper teeth. Zero’s eyes flicker at the movement. “Oh smelt me, that was…bolts, how can you just say all of that and _not_ be embarrassed?”

Zero tilts his head. “Why would I be embarrassed? It's true.”

Ecksu chokes, flushing a red so vivid that it can be seen in the dark. He stays red even after the car behind him honks at his inactivity. He jolts and presses the gas pedal harder than necessary to close the widening distance in front of him. The truck goes quiet as Ecksu focuses on driving.

Sometime later, a familiar towering shape enters the warbot’s peripheral vision. The Maverick Hunters Headquarters is appearing into view to Zero’s chagrin. The ride has been way too short for his liking.

Maybe one day he can persuade Ecksu to become part of Hunter staff? The Hunters do have drones handing out e-tanks at the canteen, but Zero can come up with a well-worded testimony of the morale boosting benefits of having someone like Ecksu stationed as chef. Since Sigma seems to think highly of Ecksu too it shouldn’t be hard.

Then Ecksu can come back to Base with Zero. 

Wait. There aren’t that many humans at Base, which won’t make Ecksu happy. Also, since Ecksu freely helped the Hunters today he is bound to be very popular at Base and that won’t make _Zero_ happy.

Idea discarded. 

Thinking of the Hunters suddenly reminds Zero of his other mission.

“Ecksu, how much fuel did you give away to the Hunters today?” he asks.

The chef reploid grimaces. “Zero, spending time with you outside of your breaks is my reward. If you’re trying to pay me back…”

“It’ll be the Hunters paying you back, not me. I’m just making this easier for the both of us. Instead of having me make calculations on guestimates, you can give me an answer.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Ecksu says,” 200,000 zennies will be enough.”

“Give me an _honest_ answer.”

Ecksu winces. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

Zero gives the other robot a weighted look.

“…452,360 zennies.”

The Blue Burger slows down to a stop at the corner curb by the Maverick Hunters Headquarters.

There’s no use delaying his and Ecksu’s much needed recharge.

Zero hops out of the truck and walks around to the other side as Ecksu lowers his window.

“Thanks for going along with my request, Zero,” says Ecksu quietly. Abel City never rests, but under the blanketing night, the intimate street lights, and the rest of the world compressed to a low murmur, Ecksu sounds like the only person in the universe. “I wish I didn’t have to go restock right now. Being with you is nice.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” acknowledges Zero as calmly as he can over his suddenly blazing circuitry. Knowing that Ecksu too shares Zero’s reluctance to part makes the warbot feel triumphant.

“A-anyways, recharge well, Zero.”

“You too, Ecksu.”

 

* * *

 

Despite their recent relationship upgrade and increasing closeness, Zero still hasn’t quite pinned down Ecksu’s route and schedule outside of noon hours.

To be fair, Ecksu says he doesn’t know either. Depending on how many human or reploid customers his food truck receives, the chef reploid needs to restock appropriately. The time invested in restocking the missing ingredients varies and Ecksu carries _a lot_ of ingredients.

So Zero didn’t expect encountering the truck at all during his night-shift patrol.

It begins with threat assessment rumbling upwards to Category Substantial, signaling a set of awfully familiar warnings that had the A-Rank call out,” Stop,” to the driver manning the Hunter transit.

“What’s wrong, sir?”

“I have something to do. Go on without me,” the A-Rank orders as he exits the vehicle.

“Sir, you how are you going to get back? We’re pretty far out.”

“That’s my business. Now go.”

The Hunter transit drops Zero off in the middle of the street. Silently, the Hunter follows the direction of the warnings, cheating through metal-linked fences sectioning off backyards.

Zero blinks when he sees an unmistakable blue truck parked around the curve of a ghostly cul-de-sac.

Lights off and windows closed, the truck is clearly not open for business. No matter how strange Ecksu is, he wouldn’t be so insensible to run his food truck at four in the morning.

Which means Ecksu _lives_ here.

Zero surveys the area. The more he takes in the boarded up houses, the overgrown weedy front yards, and the careless bags of uncollected trash bags sitting by the curb, the more his mood darkens.

One of these rundown homes belongs to Ecksu. All this time, the world’s kindest and gentlest reploid is living in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Abel City?

This is unacceptable.

The A-Rank Hunter tests the vehicle’s surface with a few knocks. Noting that there are solar panels lining the front half of the truck’s roof, Zero circles to the back. He hops, kicks in his thrusters for the needed height at the peak of his trajectory, then lands on top of the truck with his arms out front first. He lands with his hands for a split second before letting the rest of his body follow. Minimal marking.

He crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and waits.

He doesn’t need to wait long. One minute later Zero’s eyes fling open when he registers noise below him.

No way. It can’t be.

Another minute later, The Blue Burger’s rear doors swing open. Zero watches Ecksu stumble out (wearing only a blue t-shirt and a pair of shorts to the warbot’s ire), head swiveling side to the side.

Then he freezes. The burger flipper turns around stiltedly, head raising slowly as he moves.

Green eyes meet blue.

“Zero?” Ecksu gawks in recognition. “What are you doing all the way out here? Fritz, why are you on top of my _truck?!”_

“I was on patrol but now I’m done with it,” Zero snaps. “Why are you _in_ your truck?”

“What do you mean why? It’s _my_ truck!” Ecksu shoots back indignantly. “Get off of there!”

Chastised, Zero obeys.

“Now are you going to tell me what you were doing up there?” Ecksu asks, exasperated.

Scowling off to the side, Zero grumbles, “I was guarding your truck. I wanted to prevent any possible burglary or defacement attempts until you returned.”

“And why,” Ecksu starts in an all-suffering tone, “did you believe that my truck was in danger?”

“Because I thought you lived _here_.” The Hunter gestures at the neighborhood. “In smelting Sector West – 26.”

Ecksu’s eyes soften. “Zero, I don’t live here. In fact, I’m in a different neighborhood every day. After I close up shop, if I have any extra vegetables, meats, and cheeses, I do a one-man meal center. Food banks don’t accept perishables and some soup kitchens are too far away for the ones who need them the most. By doing this, I can ameliorate Abel City’s hungry and maintain my food quality’s freshness.”

The following silence is so thick that if it were a fog, neither robot would be able to see each other.

The warbot reaches a hand to his helmet, floored.

“If you’re in a different neighborhood every day, then…you _live_ in your truck.”

“You make it sound so bad, but it really isn’t. I chose to do this.”

Ecksu doesn’t have a real house. And in spite of that, this reploid just. Goes around helping the needy. Gives fuel away without expecting anything back to the Hunters. This is all voluntary.   

“Why?” Zero asks, voice on edge. “This is bolts. Why do you care so much about other people? Why do you overextend yourself like this and believe you won’t get hurt? This is foolish, Ecksu.”

How can someone be so good and pure? How is he real? This degree of moral uprightness is too much that it borders painful.

How the rust did this stupid thing became so important to Zero?

Ecksu smiles gently. “Zero, I told you what my directives are. That’s all there is to it.”

“So is this all programming? Were you built like this? That has to be why,” says the Red Ripper in a frantic hush. “Because I don’t understand. I _can’t_ understand. You can’t possibly be this altruistic without being broken in some way.”

The clothed android draws his shoulders inwards. It looks like an invisible weight is on them.

“Zero, it’s not that much of a big deal. I can do all of this because I can. I don’t mean that flippantly. I’m much stronger and more fortunate that I look. In fact, I’m pretty privileged.”  

The combatdroid glowers half-heartedly. “What do you mean?”

Ecksu exvents with his entire form. Zero can see that the other reploid is struggling to articulate.

“I…I didn’t start out as a food service worker. I used to be someone else. And that someone lived a life where he could receive anything he wants. To _be_ anything he wants.

“Ironically, although I technically had the potential to be anything I want, I couldn’t be two things: I can neither be human nor be normal. The first one I accept. That’s something that no amount of effort can change. But at least I wanted to try being normal. I wanted to interact with other people as myself.”

The android that Zero calls Ecksu lifts his right hand. He clenches and unclenches it, staring at it as if it doesn’t belong to him.

“As much as I can to being myself,” he whispers. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t make any sense do I? If you knew who I was, maybe it would make more sense, but...I don’t want to. I don’t want to change how you see me.”

“Then don’t,” says Zero bluntly.

Ecksu’s head snaps up.

“I wasn’t always a Hunter either,” Zero admits. “I used to be someone else too. If I told you who I used to be, your perception of me may change as well. Since we both want to remove ourselves from our former selves, the logical solution is to simply not tell.”

When Ecksu’s eyes start watering, the warbot internally panics.

“Why are your eyes doing that?” Zero asks warily.

Ecksu hurries to rub them. “I’m sorry. I'm just so relieved. I didn’t want to change how you saw me because I like you. I like you _so_ much, Zero. That’s why it’s important to me that you like me too.”

“Oh, okay,” the combatdroid manages, confused. He feels like he’s missing something again. Is Ecksu meaning something different or is he confirming the obvious?   

“Please give me a moment.” Eyes closed, the chef reploid lifts his head up and exvents deeply. A minute later, he clasps his hands together.

“Anyways, you said you’re done with patrol, right? Does that mean you can have breakfast with me?”

Zero nods eagerly.

“Great!” Then the burger flipper frowns. “Wait. How did you get here? Where’s your ride, Zero?”

“I was with a Unit until I saw your truck. Then I told them to leave without me.” The Hunter pauses. “Can you drive me back to Headquarters after we finish refueling?”

Ecksu laughs. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

“Zero, please re-type in the payment. I can’t accept this amount as a tip,” Ecksu grimaces.

“No,” replies the warbot stubbornly.

“You’re holding up the other customers. Zero, please?”

 _“I’m_ not holding up the customers. _You’re_ just not processing my payment.”

“This burger is 800 zennies. You’re giving me 10,000,” Ecksu says with narrowed eyes. “This is no longer generous. You’re ridiculous.”

“Ecksu, you recharge in your truck. _You’re_ ridiculous.”

Gaping, the burger flipper draws back, offended.

“I will go to a bank, withdraw traditional zenny, and throw it at you if you continue to fight me,” threatens the Hunter coolly. “Let me tip good service. So shut up and take my money.”

“Yeah, take his money!” some random human standing in the line behind Zero interjects. “You deserve it, burger man!”

Huh, so humans can be smart and useful. No wonder Ecksu likes them so much.

Ecksu tosses an exasperated look at both Zero and the human and groans. Caving in, he finally processes the payment. Zero victoriously takes his Sufici and moves to the side.

 _“You have to let me treat you at least,”_ Ecksu adds later in their voice channel while working on a family’s orders of sliders. _“I’m not going to take a no for an answer.”_

 _“Ecksu, the only fuel I voluntarily consume besides E-Tanks are your burgers.”_ And even then it’s so Zero can see and support the chef reploid. Ecksu’s burgers lose their charm if they’re not consumed in their creator’s presence. 

Momentarily, Ecksu locked eyes with the Hunter. _“Then is there something you want?”_

Zero takes a bite of his burger. _“I want to be with you more.”_

 _“Zero, I want to_ give _you something.”_

The warbot shrugs. _“Then give yourself to me.”_

“Oh fritz!” Ecksu curses aloud. Zero sees him come back to the counter with a reploid burger and a strained smile. The chef reploid’s white apron marred with a new blue stain, contrasting his crimson face.

_“You can’t say things like that! I swear you’re doing this on purpose…”_

_“Doing what on purpose?”_

_“Smelt me, never mind.”_

 

* * *

 

Before Zero enters the market, he already registers that something is off.

For one, Zero made an order to Ecksu earlier and the other reploid sounded tight and distracted. At first the warbot assumed that the lunch rush is more taxing than usual until he hears an unfortunately familiar grating voice that has his wires crossing.

“Why the fritz are you serving reploid fuel alongside with human food? That’s gross,” declares Vile, who Zero is aggravated to see is standing in front of The Blue Burger among all the food trucks he can choose to plague with his unwanted presence. “What the smelt is wrong with you.”

The belligerent purple warmachine is thickening the air around Ecksu’s food truck. Every passerby is giving Vile a wide berth and the customers at the nearby food trucks are watching him with an interest one would have in witnessing a train crash in slow motion.

There are a couple Hunters trying to persuade Vile to move along from a few paces behind him. Seeing that they’re all low-ranked and underpowered, they’re clearly too nervous to be anymore firmer. It doesn’t help that Vile is also ignoring them the way he does with dirt.   

“I assure you that the ingredients for the reploid burgers and normal burgers are kept separately at all times,” Ecksu replies patiently and neutrally.

“Just the idea of something disgusting like ketchup sharing the same space as energen is enough for me to vomit and I don’t have that function. Your truck sounds like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up.”

“I am very well aware of the consequences of the dangers of cross contamination, sir. I’ve passed the examination for handling food safely and have the certificate. If you’re still worried about my methods, you’re allowed to observe me. But please move to the side so the other customers can make their orders.”

Vile sneers. “What customers? There’s no one here – “

Zero chooses that moment to step in. “Hello, I’m here to pick up my order.”

Even though Vile is wearing a helmet that’s sheltering his expressions, Zero can sense the other Hunter’s surprise. “Zero? What the rust an A-Rank like you doing here?” at the same time Ecksu chirps, “Welcome back Zero,” in visible relief.

“To refuel,” Zero deadpans. “What about you? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eh. Lots of noise back at Base about some godly reploid food truck that’s run by a saint. So I came out to check it and found _this_ heap pile of slag.” Vile snorts. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for that scrap?”

Zero crosses his arms. “I’m a repeat customer. I can personally vouch that the quality is good. If you’re so swift to hop into conclusions about fuel you haven’t had then I suggest you go to Medbay and have your assessment checked.”

 _“Zero, he’s not worth it,”_ Ecksu inputs tightly in their shared channel. 

_“I know him. Let me handle this,”_ Zero shoots back.

“Wow, if you honestly think this crude is worth ingesting, you must be broken. Again. How about _you_ go to Medbay and have an overhaul for your processor?” Vile retaliates snippily.

“I’m not the one who can’t follow basic orders and got banned from the sparring room. Are you getting so antsy that you’re picking fights in the market lot of all places?” The red comabtdroid narrows his eyes until they become twin blue slits as thin as blades. “This is pathetic even for you.”

“If you two are going to fight, can you please take it elsewhere?” Ecksu interrupts. “You’re creating a scene.”

“Get dunked in acid, this is none of your business,” Vile snarls to the chef reploid without looking at him.

“Don’t involve Ecksu into your idiocy, Vile,” Zero warns.

“’Ecksu?’ You _know_ this floppy disc?” the purple robot demands.

“Yes. Insult him one more time and there’ll be one more opening in your helmet,” Zero growls, eyes flashing.

 _“Zero, please. He’s_ seriously _not worth it.”_

“Oh I get it now! Well isn’t that cute,” Vile scorns. “And here I was wondering why you were trying so hard acting like a self-righteous smeltturd all of a sudden. Getting real chummy with civiloids, aren’t we?”

“Sirs, for the last time,” Ecksu groans in an all-suffering tone. “If you won’t take this elsewhere, I’ll have to report you.”

Vile finally full-bodily faces the truck owner. “Oh will you just shut up, you whiny little – “

Without a second thought, Zero tackles the purple warbot.

Ecksu shouts in alarm at the same time Zero is attempting to pummel his opponent into a pulp - and avoid being severely injured in turn because Vile is an A-Rank too for a rusting reason.

They’re both experienced combatdroids who don’t give a flying fritz that they’re in public and drawing unwanted attention. Zero is distantly aware that there are other Maverick Hunter patrons who are trying to stop human civilians from taking photos, which only eggs him more to rip Vile’s arms off faster. There’s an audience including other Hunters and Zero doesn’t care if he gets suspended, he has issued the challenge by striking first so if he backs down, that’ll hang over him when he returns to Base.

“Hello, is this the Maverick Hunters?” interrupts the driest voice Zero has ever heard. “My name is Ecksu and I run a burger food truck at Century Road. I would like to make a report. There are two Mavericks fighting and causing a public disturbance in the market lot.”

Incredulous, Vile and Zero halt midway from tearing each other through the chest to rip the other’s core out. They both turn towards to one unimpressed burger flipper who has two fingers to his aural cone, clearly in the middle of a call.

They balk. “We _are_ the Hunters!” they both squawk at the same time.

“You,” Ecksu starts, unperturbed of being on the receiving end of two well-armed combatdroids’ attentions,” are worse than newly-activateds. Absolute _children._ Oh, I’m sorry, I was talking to the Maverick, ma’am.” The reploid returns back to his call. “The first reploid? He’s purple and is wielding a shoulder cannon and a t-helmet. Why yes, he does indeed have a red V on his forehead.”

“Fracking beta, I’m going to _terminate_ you – “

“You know him? Oh, he’s one of _yours?_ What a shame that he’s tarnishing the Hunters’ reputation; he just threatened to kill me, and I’m an unarmed civilian. Did I mention I flip burgers for a living?”

Vile twitches and he raises a hand to his own aural cone, most likely receiving a summon. He hisses viciously. “You’re lucky you’re so below me you’re not worth half a bullet.”

Fuming, Vile stomps off and Zero is satisfied to see the purple warbot’s left knee wobble.

“And the other reploid?”

Zero seizes up. The short-lived satisfaction evaporates for dread.

“…They ran off. I’d give you a description, but it seems they’re a very common model and it wouldn’t be helpful. Anyways, thank you for your time – I’m still busy at work. It’s the lunch rush after all. Good-bye.” The brown haired reploid disconnects from his call.

“You slumped me with _Vile?”_ Zero accuses hotly after. “Rust, you called headquarters on me!”

“Zero, I don’t appreciate anyone who threats, intimidates, or utilize violence when none are needed,” says Ecksu, teeth gritting. “The market place is a safe space for people to relax and refuel. But you chose to strike first! What in the bolts were you thinking, Zero!”

“I was ending a fight,” the red warbot responds unhesitant, equally unmoved.

“Ending? You escalated it!”

“You can end a fight and all future fights by completely obliterating your opponent into absolute submission with sheer power.”

Ecksu stares at Zero, looking so baffled that the red warbot internally scolds himself. Ecksu isn’t just any civiloid. He’s so good and kind and selfless that he sits at the opposite spectrum end of functionality from Zero. Of course he doesn’t understand how combat-based robots function!   

Then the peaceful reploid drops his shoulders, sighing.

“Zero, have you ever heard the phrase ‘once hurt, twice shy?’ It’s a real consequence of violence. It taints a place. It leaves wounds and those take time to heal. And after they heal, they leave behind scars. All those people who took pictures of you? If they realize you and Vile are Maverick hunters – no, they _will_ find out. Bolts, it’s amazing what people can find out through online. And once they do, they _will_ be more cynical of perceiving the Hunters as proper law enforcers because of this incident.”

Zero sulks. “If I didn’t challenge Vile, he wouldn’t understand that you’re mine to protect.”

Rust, even all of Sigma’s previous lectures couldn’t once evoke regret from the Red Ripper the way Ecksu’s open disappointment does. 

“I know you had good intentions but I can take care of myself. Us service workers go through our own share of harassment. Vile’s stint is nothing new. What’s more important than me is what _you_ represent. You’re a Maverick Hunter, Zero, and the Maverick Hunters are one of the few bridges that connect humans and reploids together in favor of peaceful coexistence.”

Oh. Zero indirectly interfered Ecksu’s directive. No wonder this matters to him. 

“I care about you, Zero. That’s why I also care how other people view you. Do you understand me a little better now?”

_But I don’t care how other people view me. I only need to care about how you do._

Ecksu probably wouldn’t appreciate Zero saying that though.

”I do,” the combatdroid answers solemnly. Then with a little more heat, he says,” _Now_ will you wear armor?” 

Ecksu smiles wearily. “I’ll think about it.”

 

* * *

 

Later Zero receives a message. It’s from Vile.

_“Eat scrap.”_

Seconds later, Zero receives another message but this time it’s from Sigma concerning the brawl. Pictures of it are circulating the internet and the local news, creating another “processor-ache” for the Commander.

As a result, the warbot is punished with extra patrols, which he wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t around noon. Now his lunch breaks are shortened for the next three weeks.

Zero is irked to see that Ecksu was right. Violence isn’t always the solution.

 

* * *

 

Minor or major, there are always consequences.

Every chance Zero gets, if he can spend his breaks and free time with Ecksu, he snatches it. It’s not as frequent as he likes (because Zero wants to be with the burger flipper _all_ the time) but unless work interferes, Zero can see Ecksu at least once every single day.

Because of his punishment, the Hunter is sitting in the back of the Hunter van for a patrol for the Third Unit instead of being at the market lot where he wants to be.

Fortunately, he can still talk to the other robot.

 _“I’ve registered The Blue Burger for the food festival,”_ Ecksu announces cheerfully. _“The ‘Taste of Abel’ is finally letting reploid cuisine in!”_

_“A festival?”_

_“Yes, have you been to one before?”_

_“I had to guard one but I never participated. There’s too many people.”_

_“Perhaps, but there’s going to be so many diverse foods there. Maybe you can finally find something else you’ll like.”_

_“The Blue Burger is the only venue I’ll go to.”_

_“Zero, you’re not going to malfunction if you try a cookie for once.”_

_“And frag up my tank? I refuse.”_

_“I’m not asking you to eat a whole plate of spaghetti or curry – “_

_“Ecksu, I don’t have the systems for those things to leave.”_

_“Okay, but you have nanites like everyone else. If you eat tiny amounts, you’ll be fine.”_

_“Organic sustenance is useless and waste shedding is demeaning. Have you seen the news of that construction bot who ingested a milkshake?  He couldn’t combust it all so the leftover rotted inside him.”_

_“That’s why I said tiny. Ti – what was that?”_

Cut off into radio silence. Zero has heard that tone twice: the first time when Ecksu came to the building collapse and the second when he was dealing with Vile.

Zero surges.

_“Ecksu? What happened?”_

_“Zero, there’s something wrong.”_ The burger flipper sounds tense. _“People are screaming. Oh rust, I think I hear gunshots - I need to go!”_

The other robot abruptly leaves the channel.

_“Ecksu? Ecksu!”_

No answer. Zero can’t raise Ecksu anymore.

The warbot had this thought before. Every food truck, especially the reploid centric trucks, is a mobile fire hazard. All those chemicals and petroleum stacked side by side to each other is a spell for disaster.

All it takes is an accident, an escaped spark or a stray wire for everything to go bolts and someone is deliberately firing into it _._  

Zero feels like he just fell into a vat of liquid nitrogen. The one time Zero isn’t at the market lot for lunch Ecksu needs him the most and _he isn’t there._

“Century Road is under attack,” he relays to the other Hunters tensely. “Turn the vehicle around!”

“What are you – “

Wait, no. Since they’re on the highway bridge, even by transit it’ll take too rusting long to get to the market lot and Zero can’t afford to waste a single nanosecond!

The other Hunters around Zero are shouting out protests when he abruptly dashes to the back of the van and forces open the doors during the middle of the drive.

“What’s going on?” someone cries out behind him over the roaring wind. “Have you gone rusting bolts?!”

Sharp blue eyes zero into the Maverick Hunters Headquarters, a shining landmark that no can miss. Zero calculates the transit’s speed, the height of the highway bridge the van is on to the next highway bridge below it, the height of the building rooftops he’ll need to scale across and the distance he needs to cover.

With thrusters geared to the maximum and no major obstacles in his way, it’ll take approximately twelve minutes to get to the east end of Century Road.

Zero jumps into the sky.

 

* * *

 

Zero free runs straight to the market lot like a possessed mech.

It doesn’t matter that the market lot is so close to the Hunters Base and that they’ve already responded. It doesn’t matter that the Elite Unit, who involves Sigma, is probably at the scene.

It doesn’t matter because Zero is three kilometers away and when he calls for Ecksu again he doesn’t get an answer.

Zero grits his teeth and strains his accelerators to the point of breaking them.

Two kilometers away. Zero can hear klaxons blaring. He sees emergency vehicles going towards the same direction and he raises Ecksu again. No answer.

Buildings are spaced too widely for only thrusters to work. Zero swaps his hand for a buster, fully charges it and fires it behind him as he hops off. The added boost takes him further.

One kilometer away. Zero finally hears the screams rising in the air. Ecksu is still not responding.   

Half a kilometer onwards, he sees the mayhem.

Zero can see the civilians fleeing from the opposite direction below him. It’s a sea of screaming and crying people, crashing wave after wave of bodies are trampling over each other to escape from the source, which Zero spies has tendrils of black smoke emanating from it.

Zero falls down to street level – and freezes.

The maw of Century Road is crowded with ACPD and Hunter cars. Law enforcement is rushing in, carrying bodies out and handing them over to the ambulances. Bleeding humans are being laid on stretchers, some being given emergency care, and there are reploids whose torsos are clearly dented in with obvious bullet marks. One of them has their optic dangling from their socket.

And threat assessment…

Threat assessment is _screaming._  

“Zero, put down your weapon!”

The warbot in question didn’t realize his arm has already turned into a buster. The red combatdroid lifts his head up and sees a familiar Hunter flying above him.

“Storm Eagle, what’s going on!” Zero demands.

“Anti-reploid activists attacked,” reports the Seventh Unit Leader promptly, landing down to Zero. “We rounded them up and ended the battle, but not before they set arson. There’s still people in there. That’s why you can’t shoot indiscriminately.”

Something is not right. If Storm Eagle is right and the battle is already over, then why is threat assessment reporting that there’s an enemy? And a catastrophic one no less?

_Who cares, Ecksu still isn’t answering!_

“I’m looking for a reploid,” Zero says urgently, ignoring combat mode for his top priority. “His name is Ecksu and he owns a human-reploid food truck here call The Blue Burger. He doesn’t wear any armor and has short brown hair. Have you seen him?”

Storm Eagle hesitates. “All the humans should have evacuated but a reploid? No armor, brown hair? I can’t say I have.”

Zero looks back at the market lot again. Firefighters are spraying down the flames at the front but there are still fires roaring in the back. Zero has known plenty of incidents where radio communications being severely degraded by being in the proximity of an inferno. There have been plenty of situations where people are able to see each other but not communicate on radio.

If Ecksu was out already he could have responded to Zero.

But he hasn’t which means either his communication channels are broken, he’s knocked out, he’s offlined (No. No no no no no) or -  

_He can be in there in the red zone._

“Storm, I’m going in there. If you see anyone who matches Ecksu’s description, tell me,” the warbot says before charging in.

Zero’s ventilations churn harsher. He’s receiving warnings for thick smoke and heat as he goes in deeper past the firefighters and the other Hunters.

“Ecksu, I’m here!” he yells. “Where are you?!”

It takes everything not to lose composure. The further in he goes the worse the damage is; there are scorched foods, spilled liquids, turned over trash cans next to their equally turned over food trucks. Trees stand like torches. If it’s not battered and scorched, it’s burning. The back of Zero’s processor is going haywire from the multiple environmental risks, how if the gas cylinders from any of the trucks catch fire he’s in radius of an explosion. Threat assessment is rising in severity.

Then somewhere further ahead of Zero is a sharp green light, flashing like lightning in the thunderstorm of smoke and fire accompanied with the thundering, unmistakable sound of a released charged shot. Within the dark grey fog is a small, darker silhouette, whose body is occasionally outlined by the surrounding blaze. It grows larger and larger as it runs towards the warbot.  

Threat assessment raises a finger and points at it: Critical.

Critical.

Ever since the combatdroid became a Hunter, threat assessment never came across anything categorized Critical.

 _That’s what it was every time,_ hisses combat mode. _Destroy him._

A month ago the Red Ripper would have pounced onto this threat without hesitation. He would have charge forward when every fiber of his being, more than ready to slaughter this embodiment of danger apart with his bare hands if he has to.  

But Maverick Hunter Zero stops.

_Every time? Him?_

The silhouette steps out of the billowing smog.

Zero knows that face.

But gone are the white apron over the white lab coat. They’re replaced with formidable azure armor. A simple and sophisticated blue helmet with a shining crimson gem on its crown have sheltered away the brown hair. Viridian eyes reflect embers.

The blue robot blinks. Then his face twists into horror. 

“…Zero?”

He sounds so small and scared.

Zero shuts his eyes.

To deliberately look away from the enemy’s weapon is a death sentence.

But the robot in front of him is not an enemy.

From proximity sensors alone, Zero can map out what he needs to do. He raises his hand slowly, directing it to not go for the hilt of his Z-Saber. He strains to keep his fingers spread wide so it does not turn into a weapon of its own.

He gently touches the other android’s buster and nudges it down.

Opening his eyes, Zero says, “You’re finally wearing armor. Good job. But I said you didn’t need to have a buster. I’ll be the one fighting to protect you.”

Green eyes follow Zero’s hand and gasps as if he’s seeing his own weapon for the first time. The buster disappears for a normal arm. It’s trembling.

Zero secures the blue robot’s hand with his own and tugs gently.

“Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Zero, X, are you alright?” asks Commander Sigma when both robots arrive out of the devastated market lot.

 _‘Ecks.’ Not ‘Ecksu,’_ Zero thinks distantly as he nods. _X_

“I’m fine. Did everyone else make it out okay?” asks X.

“We have a lot of wounded, but no dead. You did a good job.”

X winces.

Sigma moves to the side and gestures the Lifesavers performing first aid next to the ambulance trucks. “You’re exhausted. Go get an e-tank.”

X shakes his head. “If there’s no need for me, I’d like to go take a seat somewhere.” His grip tightens in Zero’s hand. “Please.”

“I understand.” Then to Zero, Sigma says, “Zero, take him back to Base.”

“Yes sir.”

The Elite Hunter leads the blue android away from the crime scene.

They navigate through the shifting maze of cars and pedestrians. Abel City’s noisy restlessness flows into the gaping silence between the two robots during their short walk to Maverick Hunters Headquarters.

Zero holds X’s hand through the back gate at the loading dock, up the elevators, and when they get off at the canteen. The warbot guides the blue robot to a table before going up to one of the fuel distributor drones.

The Hunter comes back with two e-tanks. X isn’t looking at him.

Instead X is looking at the far off windows that take a wide portion of the walls. His eyes hone at the thin pillar of black poison corrupting the sky where the market lot used to be.

“I hate this,” X mourns bitterly. “Why did everything have to go to the bolts like this. Why is it so hard to let good things be.” He tightens his grip onto his given e-tank. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

Zero lifts his e-tank and drains it slowly. When he finishes, he pushes to the side.

Then:

“I was a Maverick.”

X faces the combatdroid.

“I was told I was found in an abandoned lab in a middle of nowhere full of processor malfunctions,” Zero says blankly as if he’s reading out a report. “I was an uncontrollable berserker. Commander Sigma had to be the one to stop me and he did. He brought me back to Base to open me up but I wasn’t dead. Instead my memory drives reset.

“Since then I’ve been a Hunter. I did my probation. I rose through the ranks. I became part of the Elite Unit. The new recruits don’t know who I am, but they hear things. Sigma never confirmed anything, but when an entire Unit disappears and a combat model returns, people can solder the wires and take guesses.”

One of the Hunters’ favorite activities is gossiping after all.   

Zero leans back. “There. Now we’re even.”

“We’re…even?” asks X.

“I know who you used to be, and now you know who I used to be.” Zero pauses. “Objectively speaking, I may have come out at a more disadvantageous position. My backgrounds are highly suspect. Yours isn’t.”

The First Android. The Father of All Reploids. The Last Legacy of Light.

X chuckles mirthlessly. It comes out short and breathy as if his own ventilations are still obstructed by lingering smog.

“I can’t believe you. How are you taking this so well? I lied to you. I gave you a false name.”

“I can ask the same thing back to you. I told you I used to be a Maverick and you’re not running away.”

“That’s because you’re not a Maverick anymore. I’m seeing you as you are now, and that’s a Hunter and a good person. You’re my friend. If we all judge each other at our worst, at our most broken…then none of us is free of sin.”

“Then why can’t you believe that the sentiment is mutual?”

If Zero isn’t so hyper focused on the blue robot’s movements he would have missed X flinching.

“I…I think it’s because I kept sinning. I wanted to run away from who I was right up until today when I couldn’t anymore. Not unless I wanted to let other people get hurt when I can do something about it.”

X finally cracks open his e-tank and take a long, drawn-out sip.

“The last time I fought, it was when Cain Labs was bombed,” X whispers. “I thought it was another Maverick attack but it was by humans. Anti-reploid humans who were angry _because_ of Maverickism. There was a man whose little brother got murdered in a Maverick attack, and he said it was my fault. I brought something unwelcome to this world.

“They saw me wielding a buster and further proved their beliefs. I was dangerous and reploids were dangerous too. I was devastated because for the first time, I really wondered if maybe my existence is a mistake? What if I miscalculated the opportunity cost and so many innocent people have gotten hurt because of me?

“Of course it’s useless thinking. No matter what I thought, what’s done is done. But I was depressed so while Cain Labs was in disrepair, I wandered around.” X smiles weakly. “Hah. I was still wearing the lab coat from the explosion and I didn’t change. An elderly woman saw me and asked, ‘What are you doing out here in the cold, child?’

“She was so forceful. She manhandled me to her food truck and tried to feed me an entire Tom Kha Gai, but even I had limits. I told her I was a robot and I couldn’t risk my systems clogging. She was so surprised - she thought I was a homeless human. I thought she was going to toss me out then and there but she stood up, went to her storage, and brought out an e-tank. She said for a robot, I looked like an absolute mess.

“I was so moved. In one day, I witnessed the worst and the best people can do. I gave her my name, and she pronounced it as ‘Ecksu.’ She didn’t know who I was at all and there was something refreshing in being…not me.”

“And you kept on being ‘Ecksu’ ever since,” comments Zero.

X nods. “I took off my helmet and my armor, gave nearly everything I owned away, and X became one of those ‘where are they now’ entries in a magazine. Without the blue, no one recognized who I was. No one associated X, the reploid template, as Ecksu, the owner of The Blue Burger. I had reploids who thought I was human, and humans who thought I was…” he snorts. “Foreign.”

Sighing, the blue android lays his head on the table. “But that’s gone now. Everyone saw me fought today. Ecksu is no more as much as The Blue Burger is.” His face twists. “I don’t even have a recharge tube anymore.”

“Then use mine. Cohabitate with me.”

X splutters. He sits up straight and stares at Zero, incredulous.

“Didn’t you just hear everything I just said?” demands X.

“I did,” confirms Zero.

“And you _still_ want to be around me?”

“Why not?”    

X scowls at hearing his own words flung right back at him. Zero can’t help but smirk. Being the nonchalant party of the conversation is amusing.

“I’m serious,” the Hunter continues. “You were living in that truck. Without it you have no place to live. So live with me.”

X falls silent. He holds up a finger, raises his e-tank, downs the entire thing as quickly as possible, and smacks it down when he’s done.

Then he erupts. “How is that your conclusion after I told you my story? And no, don’t you _dare_ compare your past with mine. You never lied about who you were. I gave you a false identity!”

Zero raises a brow. “Did you lie about us being friends?”

X falters. “What? No. Of course not.” As if his previous words’ implications finally sunk in, he babbles,” Oh bolts, I swear it’s only my identity I lied about! Everything else I’ve said to you, I meant them! I _do_ like you and I never wanted you to change how you saw me – that’s why I was trying so hard…”

Despite X rambling desperately, Zero can’t help but look at the careless drop of energen resting right by the other robot’s mouth. X, in his surge of emotions, doesn’t seem to notice.    

“- to not tell you who I was in the first place! I didn’t want to risk - umph!?”

New observation: X’s ventilations are extremely sensitive. Blocking them for even a nanosecond immediately increases the other’s temperature to an alarming degree.

Zero parts away, a little sorry.

“You had some energen left,” he explains. “It’s wasteful to leave it on.”

X has his hands over his mouth, green eyes wide and his face the same shade as the gem on his helmet. “You _have_ to be doing this on purpose!” he accuses. “There’s no way that you’re not!”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Zero bluntly. “Of course everything I do has a purpose. Right now I am offering you to stay with me in my attempt to be with you longer.”

The blue robot groans out a long stream of low hushed curses that has Zero reluctantly impressed.

Still scarlet, X grits his teeth. “Okay. Okay. We’re doing this. Alright then. Where do you live, Zero?”

Now Zero’s the one hesitating. He only planned far enough to have X agreed to stay with him, but having X live in Hunter Base long-term is not an option. The potential increase of competing other Hunters for X’s time is not something Zero wants to prepare for.

“I didn’t set up the space properly for two inhabitants. Until I do, you can stay at my quarters at Hunter Base for the night.”

Frowning, X asks slowly, “Are you sure?”

“I don’t use it that frequently anyway.”

Which is true. The combatdroid only uses it for recharge and Zero doesn’t need that right now.

Because he has a new mission to execute and has less than twelve hours to do it.

 

* * *

 

_“I’m sending you the link to our application right now. Once you’ve signed everything you can – “_

_“Done. I’ve sent it back.”_

_“What? Oh. Okay, now I require pay stubs or bank statements for the past three months and verification of employment - “_

_“Sent. What’s next?”_

_“Jesus Christ you’re fast – wait a second. ‘Zero?’ ‘Maverick Hunter?’ Sir, are you by any chance a…reploid?”_

_“Yes. Is there a problem?”_

_“Nothing. Just. Never had a reploid applying for an apartment before…”_

The manager sounds uncomfortable. Negotiations are at risk of falling.

_“There is a benefit of having an SA-Rank Hunter within the premises. For one, if a Maverick attack happens nearby, you will have instant response to have someone protect the property. It’s the equivalent of lending a space to a police officer or a security guard.”_

_“What? Oh, you don’t need to try to defend yourself. I wasn’t going to refuse you for being a reploid. That would be horrible!”_

Good. Negotiations are advancing.

_“Then please give me all the necessary paperwork that needs completion. I can finish it all right now. Also, is there a possibility to move in as soon as I’m done?”_

_“Well the unit is currently empty, but I’ll need to call some cleaners to fix up the space and we’ll need to reserve the elevator…”_

_“Let me rephrase that. If zenny and time are not an issue, then can I move in as soon as I’m done?”_

_“…Zenny?”_

Six hours later, Zero has prepared a rush job to lease an apartment at an optimal location, hired a local interior design studio to furnish it, and ordered two recharge tubes, both of which should be delivered first thing in the morning. It cost 5,636,650 zennies total, but considering Zero has only ever used his money to buy X’s low-priced burgers (which was to see X more anyway), he doesn’t miss his money.  

Zero turns around in his seat and sees X, who’s still sleeping peacefully in his recharge tube, and smiles proudly.

Everything has been prepared and X hasn’t wakened up yet.

Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for joining me on this journey.  
> I'm Janitorbot @ tumblr, twitter, and instagram so you can shout at me at other places :D


End file.
